


Feelings, Resound

by orphan_account



Category: Senyuu.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, M/M, Voice Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:18:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the person whose meeting with him was a miracle, Alba hopes for him to understand – everything he wants to convey, things he wishes he could say with his voice ringing clear across the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alba smiles sheepishly, when they meet – head ducked, a hand scratching behind his neck. No words pass between them, barely even a greeting other than a shy little nod. Creasion tilts his head, an action Alba mirrors before he covers a silent gasp with an open palm.  _'Oh!'_ Creasion almost hears in his head. Alba must have realised his concern, scrambles to take something from his messenger bag.

 _'I'm sorry,'_ reads Alba's handwriting, small and shaky across the white page. _'I think I may have lost my voice.'_

Brown hair flutters as Alba peeks over the side of the sketchpad, almost afraid to look him in the eye, face half hidden behind his hand. He flips on to the next page, lets Creasion read the rest of his message.

_'Magic has been affecting things a lot more, lately.'_

Creasion vaguely catches the eraser marks ghosting behind the pencil strokes, feels Alba's hesitance in his choice of words. Alba didn't want him to worry, or to feel guilty. He clenches his jaw, lips pursed together into a thin line. It was never his fault, to Alba. The world wasn't his sole responsibility, in Alba's eyes. Expectations didn't come hand in hand with Alba's admiration towards the Hero Creasion.

_It's nothing―_

_The doctor couldn't find―_

_Please don't―_

Alba puts his sketchbook away, smiles brighter this time. _'It's okay,'_ he hears him say, without the slightest whisper of a voice. Creasion looks away, to the patch of grass by his feet, wonders what he did to deserve such patience and consideration, when he has nothing to give in return.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_'I want to come with you on your journey.'_

May comes with lily of the valley in full bloom, a sweet scent carried by the wind. White flowers around Alba's ankles, brushing his skin as he sits atop a tree stump.

Creasion looks at the sketchpad, then at Alba. He furrows his eyebrows. “You won't change your mind?”

Alba shakes his head, smooths the open page across his lap before gingerly writing down a reply. _'I've already bought armour and things. Mum sowed_ _a new cloak for you too!_ _'_ He scratches his cheek with a sheepish smile, smudging streaks of graphite on his skin.

“You didn't have to―” A breath caught in his throat, Creasion looks away. “And I can't promise―” He pauses at the sight of Alba's puffed cheeks, smiles fondly instead. “ _'Don't underestimate me, Creasion-san,'_ huh?”

He puffs his cheeks even further, when Creasion ruffles the top of his head, red blooming across his face. Creasion wonders if he should be worried. He doesn't want Alba to hurt himself before actually going on their journey. Alba finally releases a breath, a harsh cough of a gasp, before looking up at Creasion with a sunny smile.

“Right,” Creasion says. “Your house, then?”

 

\----

 

Hawthorns blossom along the side of the road, the day they depart. Alba runs ahead, his brown cloak billowing behind him as he jumps, trying to catch air between his fingers.

Creasion smiles into his own cloak, fabric covering half of his face, the way it bunches around his neck. It smells like home, somehow. He doesn't know how to describe it – the lingering waft of barley tea woven into the threads, warm cotton dried under a mid-afternoon sun, everything that makes him think of Alba and the world his lives in. The kind of everyday normality that he yearns and is currently fighting for.

Maybe it's a reminder, in a way, that Alba still lives in a reality that he could still call his home.

 _'Creasion-san!'_ a memory of Alba's voice, distant in his mind, a shift that shouldn't have happened.

He mouths a silent promise to himself, to protect Alba's world, hopes that he would never have to lose it the way he did.

 


End file.
